


5 seasons of Melinski.

by Fauning_Over_Lahey (godrics_quill22)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asthmatic Scott, Drama, F/M, Friendship, General, Minor Character Death, Nurse Stilinski, Nurse!John, Raphael MCall, Sheriff McCall, Well not really, a decade long drama, eventual Sciles friendship, harmless flirting, mentions of alive Claudia Stilinski, no supernatural, occupation swap, pre-mellinski, sheriff!Melissa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godrics_quill22/pseuds/Fauning_Over_Lahey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nurse Stilinski?" It was her first day on the job and the Sheriff had decided to send her on petty errands irrespective of her astounding resumé. Of course she wasn't annoyed. She was just grateful for the job and thought she was quite capable of working her way up to the top. Damn right she could.</p><p>"No. /I'm/ nurse Stilinski." The man standing behind the front desk replied, his eyes dancing with humor that had her wishing for the earth to open up and swallow her whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The meeting.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KnownAsBeacon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnownAsBeacon/gifts).



> Totally writing this story for @BeaconSheriff on twitter based on "his" occupation swap prompt.

The year was 2002.

Melissa sat in the kitchen of the new home she had purchased with more than half of her savings. Just a month ago, she had been living contentedly in the home she shared with her husband in New York, enjoying her job more than she enjoyed her marriage for the simple reason that Raphael McCall, her husband -soon to be divorced- had gotten so engrossed in his work that he had started to care more about that than about his own family and in their line of work, disappointments happened at a sharp ratio of 10:1 to happy endings. Nothing at all like what the movies say or what those CSI series indicate. 

Good luck finding a serial killer overnight. What a load of crock!

That being said, she always thought Raphael would know better than to invest his heart into being a cop. No, she loved her job but she also set priorities because she realized that sooner or later, the innocent ones in the lives of cops are the ones who suffer and in her case, that was her son; Scott.

Scott wasn't the brightest kid in school and he missed more classes than he actually attended in a term because of his frequent trips to the hospital due to asthma. He wasn't smart, but even at age 8, he was the kindest person she knew. He had a smile that made her forget all the stress at work and just. . . Focus on him for that whole time she is with him and she did not -could not- for the life of her, understand just /how/ Raphael sunk so low in spite of Scott's radiant presense in his life.

So she had left. No she wasn't afraid like the main character in Anna Quindlen's 1998 bestseller, Black and Blue, but they did have one thing in common. She was going to make sure Raphael never stained Scott with his growing bitterness.

Of course the man in question hadn't even put up a fight and she didn't know whether to be relieved because she had admittedly made up her mind and was going to leave him even if he begged and crawled after them, or whether to be angry at the possibility that her husband has probably not even noticed their absense.

She had packed her bags and gone on a road trip with her son, job hunting from one town to the other, from this city to the next till finally, when she thought all hope was lost because she was almost out of California, she found it. Beacon Hills.

It was a wish-wash of a place but the streets looked clean and she found a decent motel to lodge in with her son before they could find a permanent house and above all, she found a job with the Beacon County Sheriff's department. She was going to be one of the deputies but she did not mind that. No, not at all. With the flexible hours, the proximity of the hospital and the school system, she would not only have time for her job with the offered flexible hours but also manage to keep an eye on her son.

Her uniform had come in three days ago and for the life of her, she seemed to now be realizing what exactly it was that was going on. She was moving on. And it really was as scary as it got because she has known Raphael all her life. Literally. They had grown up just across the street from each other, their parents had teased them endlessly about dating even when the thought hadn't crossed their minds till the summer of her twelvth birthday, when the then fifteen year old /high school/-going Raphael had kissed her and shattered her world.

Affirmatively, it had been a very chaste kiss but she was twelve, and usually, people in high school just didn't go about kissing -or even hanging out with- twelve year olds. If they had been unseperable before then, then there was yet to be a word that could describe just how close they were /after/ that kiss happened. 

From their days of playing "police and thief" in their neighborhood, much to the chagrin of all their neighbours and age mates, they had both decided to get into the real world of crime. Perhaps it had been more of Raphael's dream than hers but she enjoyed the job so much, she couldn't imagine doing anything beside that.

It was the fun they had playing good cop and bad cop that nade her love the job more but two years ago, Raphael had been recruited by the FBI, an achievement she had been even more proud of than he had been. His hard work was finally paying off, and she looked forward to that day when she achieves the same feat. They even fantasized about the hug he was going to welcome her with at the entrance and how they might both end up getting fired for it.

They had joked about conceiving their second child on that night and both had looked forward to it but of course the reality was different. In the real version, three months after joining the FBI, Raphael became a shadow of himself, he enjoyed drinking more than eating and preferred yelling to /actually/ talking. As the days morphed into months, she realized her fear of him grew. No she didn't think he would abuse her because she was very certain she can handle heself against him.

It was Scott she was scared for. So she had done what any mother would /understand/. No she didn't want to be agreed with, she just needed to be understood. A child -especially a boy- needed his father but what kind of father was Raphael going to be, and just how much damage has he already done to their son to the extent that Scott has not, not once in the last month since they left home, mentioned him?

Just how much damage has already been done to her son? She sat, absentmindedly fingering the fabric of the brown uniform.

"Mommy?" Speak of the devil. . .

"Hey honey. Why aren't you in bed? School starts tomorrow." Melissa whispered, her thoughts dissipating from her mind as she looked up to see her /very/ sleepy son in his pyjamas rubbing his eyes. His jet black hair was messed up in a mop on top of his head.

"Why are you not sleeping? Are you sad?" The little boy asked, shuffling on his feet as he slowly made his way from the base of the steps to where his mother sat on the single couch she could afford to buy at the moment.

"No of course I'm not. Come here." Melissa replied by default, realizing terrifyingly, that she was being quite truthful when she said that. She pulled Scott onto her lap and tucked him against her, starting to rock him gently in the way that always put him back to sleep. "We're going to be fine." She whispered after a moment's silence between them, convinced that Scott was asleep and only saying that for her benefit. She needed to believe that she could survive without Raphael.

"I know." Scott whispered, causing Melissa to tilt her head to the side to look down at her son. His eyes were closed and puffy but apparently, he wasn't asleep. Yet. "I love you mommy."

"I love you too, Scott." She whispered and dropped a kiss to the top of his head, rocking him till he finally fell asleep.

*****

"Nurse Stilinski?" It was her first day on the job and the Sheriff had decided to send her on petty errands irrespective of her astounding resumé. Of course she wasn't annoyed. She was just grateful for the job and thought she was quite capable of working her way up to the top. Damn right she could. She tapped the female nurse standing in front of the desk because that was the direction an elderly nurse had pointed her to with the words; "There's nurse Stilinski."

"No. /I'm/ nurse Stilinski." The man standing behind the front desk replied, his eyes dancing with humor that had her wishing for the earth to open up and swallow her whole. Of course the female nurse's knowing smile as she left them, did nothing to help her situation.

"Oh. Sorry. I mean, they didn't tell me-" She started to stammer her way through an apology only for the man, whom she guessed was just around Rafael's age, to cut in.

"That I was a male nurse? Nah don't worry about it. I get that a lot. So how may I help you. . . Sheriff?" The nurse muttered, his humor now very evident in that wide, molar-to-molar grin on his face.

"Oh no. Uh. Deputy. Deputy Sheriff." She corrected easily, fighting off the embarrased blush that threatened to crawl onto her face.

"Right." He muttered then leaned onto the counter, beckoning her closer in a familiar way that had her wondering if everyone in Beacon Hills was just as friendly. "I'm new here. All these people are so foreign to me I just-" He whispered dramatically, causing her to stiffle a laugh.

"No need to explain. I'm new here too so. . . In fact, it's my first day on the job." Melissa offered, thinking to ease him up some since they are both town newbies.

"Well good luck. I've been here a week so if you need a tour guide, just lemme know." The nurse offered with that bright grin that she made a mental note to get used to.

"Right. 'Cause you know all the corners of this town?" She asked, sarcasm finding its way into her voice although she was actually genuinely curious.

"No. No of course not. With the insane hours I work, I haven't even had time to shave my brows and legs and paint my toe nails." He teased, causing Melissa to chuckle again. "No, 'Cause it'll be better if the deputy Sheriff's with me /when/ I do get lost because that'll increase my chances of being found."

"Smart." She nodded, her smile remaining.

"I know. I'm John, by the way." He finally introduced himself, holding out a hand to her.

"Well, John by the way, I'm Melissa. Melissa McCall." Melissa offered too, taking his offered hand for a brief handshake before snapping back to do what she actually came to do. "I'm supposed to get some paperwork from you about a victim that was brought in at 23:26 yesterday." She requested when they dropped their hands.

"Oh right the one from the building down town. I'm telling you it was not a pretty sight." John mumbled to himself, wearing a fairly -and barely concealed- disgusted look on his face as he searched the counter-top for the file, grinning when he found it and held it out for her to take. "We still don't have the autopsy results so I can't tell you the C.O.D."

"Don't worry about it. I guess I'll just make another trip back here. Thanks for the help." Melissa smiled at the him.

"Anytime." He replied with a pleasant smile of his own.


	2. 1st July 2004.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was in the fall of his seventeenth year when he met her. 
> 
> Claudia.

"It finally happened." John Stilinski mumbled into the dimly lit room. It took two full weeks for him to say the words but even as he said them, he realized he hadn't really come to terms with it. Not yet anyway.

John Stilinski was a cheerful man. He was born cheerful and his parents used to joke -he was using that word because of the intense laughter that usually accompanied his next words and also the fact that he never found out how true that claim actually was- that he danced his way out of his mother's stomach (womb). Yeah, now that he was recalling the sentiment after several years, it felt very unlikely.

His birth may not have been so dramatic but the rest of his life had been. 

Growing up in Miami had made sure of that and never, not once in his wildest dreams did he imagine that this would be his life at thirty. No, absolutely not. As the son of a full time house wife and a police officer, he had often danced his way through the station, building up dreams of someday being a cop but by age ten, he had changed dreams so many times that he was sure he was born a drifter and was, at some point, even convinced that he hadn't been a product of his parents but had /somehow/ drifted from another woman's womb into his mother.

Of course that opened and entirely new era of his life which had been even more fun than his crazy life so far. By age fifteen, most of his friends had an idea what they wanted out of life and he was still answering "I'm going to be a professional drifter." to the question; "So what work do you wanna do in the future?" Most people just thought he was being secretive, not wanting to share his million dollar idea with them because he might have it stolen from him and boy were they wrong!

Silently, secretly, he yearned to be normal, yearned for a plan, a dream. His mother told him: "Some people just bloom late but they bloom even more beautifully than the first bloomers when they finally get to it." and he had thought that she was just saying that to cheer him up as part of her duty as a mom, which technically, she was doing. 

It was in the fall of his seventeenth year when he met her. 

Claudia. 

She had been everything he was not, and in her, he saw a perfect balance to his person. A ying to his yang. So he had pursued her, driven by a desire he had never felt mostly because he had never wanted anything in his life. His aloof nature made sure of that. However, Claudia was the main -and only, to be fair- rule to the equation and she opened him up to a life style that surprised everyone who knew him. 

His friends went so far as to make jokes like; "Oh are you talking about John /before/ Claudia? Or after?" To everyone, it was a reference point in his life and after a while, he realized the truth in those sentiments. Realized and accepted it. He agreed with it enough to marry the woman who changed him. 

No he didn't suddenly become a dreamer, far from it. He just became desperate enough to try new things and maybe his mother had been right because by the time he settled on being a full-time chef, he had done pretty much every job in the book and gathered a very colourful array of work experiences and dealing with different types of customers. It had been the agreement that they would both stabilize financially before settling down but Claudia had become pregnant and he had been so happy about it, he had convinced her that everything would just be alright. 

She believed him and with the years that passed, he tried his best to provide her and their son with a happy life even though his wife still brought in most of the money. 

It seemed as if for the first time in his entire life, he was actually going to get clear blue skies but of course fate -or whom/whatever was in charge of his life, decided that he has had enough grace period and it was time to pick his world up and spin it quickly on its axis till the things that didn't break just. . . gave in and collapsed.

Five years ago his wife had been diagnosed of Pick's disease. 

The first time he heard the doctor say those words, he had chuckled at just how. . . funny the word sounded but then he had gone on to explain that it was actually frontotemporal dementia. Even to his lay man's brain, this was just too much to take in. No of course fate -he was going with fate on this one- didn't stop there. 

Noooo. Claudia's "simple" incurable illness just mutated over the years. Behavior variant frontotemporal dementia (bvFTD), that is what she had started with. The condition was characterized by prominent changes in her personality, interpersonal relationships and conduct that often occur in people in their 50s and 60s. -At least that was what the doctor had said,- giving him a chance to breathe easy that this could be a case of misdiagnosis and that they could do it again- before he had added that it can also develop as early as their 20s or as late as their 80s. 

He had taken his wife home then and given their family a day off to sulk but by morning, his inner drifter had reared it's head and was ready for action because he started taking health courses secretly, wanting to have any news -if there was- about experimentation on the cure of frontotemporal dementia. 

Three years ago, on the day on his graduation as a nurse, he had told his wife what he had been up to but doubted very much that she had even heard or understood him because she just. . . sat there. That eternal smile on her face because yes, as if bvFTD was not enough - in bvFTD, the nerve cell loss is most prominent in areas that control conduct, judgment, empathy and foresight, among other abilities.- but Primary progressive aphasia (PPA) had also been added to the mix. 

The doctor said the chances of that happening were like one in a million but of course, fate decided his wife should be /the one/. PPA affected her language skills, speaking, writing and comprehension. They said in addition to bvFTD, his wife had gathered an entire colony of FTD symptoms including the ones of semantic variant of PPA which meant she lost the ability to understand or formulate words in a spoken sentence. 

It was, in her case, a combination of every bad disease in the dementia notebook.

Two years ago, he had made the hard decision to move his family from the loud and vibrant atmosphere in Miami and to a small town. When they had packed up, he had no definite location in mind but he hadn't even worried. His wife was beyond -or below- worrying and his son was too much like him to be disturbed -Or at least he believed so-. As much as he liked to tell himself he was ready for it, that he had been preparing for the moment since he had heard the doctor's diagnosis five years ago, when the moment /actually/ happened, he found himself crippled. 

Physically, mentally and emotionally and he feared he may have lost the will to remain in health care and gained the fear of just how to go on with just Stiles. 

Stiles had wanted to go school, refused to stay at home and as helplessly as any man who has no idea how to deal with loss -because he was an only child and his parents were both alive- , he had allowed it. It has just been a week after Claudia's funeral and the hospital had given him a month's leave upon request so now he was sitting in the middle of the bedroom he had shared with Claudia on the few days she had been released from the hospital every once in a while, a picture of what their family looked like before her illness, cradled in his mascular hands.

And that's when he heard it. 

The gunshots.

It was his instincts -self preservatory instincts- that had him dropping the picture and taking cover just in case the shooter wasn't done yet. Slowly and quietly, as if the shooter was right there in the room with him, he reached for his phone and dialled 911. "There's gunshot. I heard gunshot from across the street. This is nurse Stilinski I heard-" The piercing scream cut through his call and he dropped the phone, bolting out of the door when he heard a woman screaming for a doctor. 

"I'm a nurse. Let me through I'm a nurse!"

Apparently, that was all the introduction he needed, to be let near the man who lay on the curb, bleeding to death. 

Eventually, the man did bleed to death, leaving him more shaken up than he would like to admit especially since half of his huts were splattered on the curb and the nerse had most of the dead man's blood on his clothes and hands. 

"John. Hey. Witnesses say-" Melissa called a few moments after she got down from the squad car, having heard what the eyewitnesses said to the other deputies.

"Yeah I tried to stop the bleeding but by the time I got to him he had already lost too much blood. I didn't know if it was safe before, so I called-" He had retreated from the scene, hands still bloodied and breaths shallow as he recalled just how he had felt when that man had gone limp under his fingers.

"Hey." Melissa cut through the man's rambling, flashing him a gentle smile. "I wasn't interrogating you. I just want to know if you're alright."

"Yeah. Yeah why won't I be?" At the familiar cocking of Melissa's head and the fact that he knew her well enough to know she was trying hard not to roll her eyes, he added. "I meant to say that I'm hanging in there."

"I didn't say anything." Melissa replied, eyes darting warily to his bloody hands.

"Of course you didn't. Your thoughts are written all over your face. You know for a cop-" He was willing to say just anything to keep his attention from the fact that there was blood all over his clothes and hands and he was standing in the middle of the freaking street.

"I wouldn't finish that statement if I were you." She threatened with a grin.

"Ooohh bad cop came out to play." The nurse rolled his eyes, easing into that careful familiarity they had built over the past two years, mostly because of their sons. And also because apparently, people die a lot in Beacon Hills. Probably not the safest place to raise a child but it was safer than Miami and that was quite enough.

"I'm here to get the body and question eye witnesses." Melissa explained with an indulgent smile then patted him on the shoulder before pulling away. "Talk to you later, Stilinski."

"Yeah. Sure." He muttered more to himself as he watched her walk away towards the group of people gathered around where the accident took place. With a sigh, he retreated from the crowd and into his home across the street.

Melissa may have spared him but the next deputy at his doorstep would be looking for some answers and he really could use a drink.

Lots of it.


	3. The Supernatural Connection Theory.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well you know what they say. We only decide to believe in these supernatural phenomena because we refuse to fathom that men can do that to their fellow men." She knew that from a case she had solved with Raphael a few years ago when a man had just decided to butcher down a beautiful woman for no reason at all, and blamed the devil.

"I think it was a demon." It was the first thing Nurse John Stilinski said to Melissa when she walked into the hospital. To be fair, he had whispered those words as he pulled her by the arm to the emergency area that also had the morgue. Yes he had finally had the desire to go back to work after his wife had died mostly because just seeing Stiles toughen up had torn him to bits and made him want to be his father but also, Melissa and her son had done a lot of good to his decision.

"A what?" Melissa may have exclaimed. In truth, she wasn't that bothered about the fact that John was literally dragging her across the hospital and away from the other deputies she had come in with, but she was really beginning to wonder if this was his current idea of what 'small' talk should be.

"You heard me." He didn't spare her a glance and didn't stop in his strides till they were in the morgue before he let go of her arm and gave her an aplogetic look which she shrugged off with a look because she was still more concerned about what the man was saying than the firm grip he had had on her arm only a few moments prior.

"Yes I did but-" Melissa started to say.

"And I know it sounds farfetched but something is happening here and I don't think it's /human/." And for some reason, he still wasn't specifying what he was refering to, in particular and somehow seemed to expect her to know.

"Well you know what they say. We only decide to believe in these supernatural phenomena because we refuse to fathom that men can do that to their fellow men." She knew that from a case she had solved with Raphael a few years ago when a man had just decided to butcher down a beautiful woman for no reason at all, and blamed the devil. It had literally been his only defence. The only thing he had said in court. That wasn't why she came over but when she turned, she saw the man had pulled one of the cold chambers open to reveal a very beautiful young girl.

"Melissa, I'm telling you this is not /normal/. There were no ordinary marks found on that family a year ago." John Stilinski tried to argue out his point. Till date, he still remembered that particular file. The one about the mysterious death of the family that had been travelling in that car. There was something about it that just. . . Shook him to the core.

"The ones we found in the car? I thought /you/ put the lid on that a while ago." Melissa asked with furrowed brows, carefully studying the man she had grown to call 'friend' over the years.

"Just because I stopped talking about it doesn't mean I stopped thinking about it." John mumbled with a sigh, running his fingers through his short blonde hair. 

"There were bullet marks all over the car." She knew that point was invalid but she also knew how John got when he started weaving out conspiracy theories. Of the two of them, the nurse was the one who spent much time thinking of conspiracy theories and not her, the cop. John Stilinski must have taken a large bite out of the conspiracy cookie because sometimes, it terrified her how he can just. . . Go.

"Yes, but the only bullet that actually made contact hit the mother's shoulder and exited cleanly to lodge in the seat. She bled a lot and lost blood but lemme remind you that that wasn't the C.O.D but the /claw/ scratches on her body. On /all/ of them."

"Except Malia." Melissa indulged. That much was true, at least although she still didn't know how the demons fit into this particular situation.

"Because you never found her." The man sighed again, looking deflated.

"No we didn't we combed the entire area and I spent most of my free time last year personally going through /all/ of Beacon Hills and still couldn't find her. It's already been a year and County is ruling that off as a kidnapping gone wrong. Honestly, I don't know /how/ a kidnapping can possibly go so wrong." Melissa mumbled, displeasure settling in her system. She wasn't going to close that docket yet -but John did not have to know that or he might get too excited- and she was going to re-open the case and call in favors from New York if she had to.

"And the coyote hairs which were found in the car?" The man questioned.

"Maybe they had a pet coyote." Even she realized just how silly that sounded.

"And they what, put it in their lap and ride off with it on their family ride? Do you /know/ what a coyote looks like?" The man asked and at Melissa's 'seriously?' look, he added; "What? I'm curious considering your statement."

"Nothing makes sense." She finally whispered.

"Everything does to me. There are demons and all that gory supernatural stuff that are in the movies, in this town." And he looked so convinced about it too.

"Still watching horror flicks with your son?" Melissa asked with a smile on her face. Stiles was an adorable boy with a killer sense of humor and the ability to talk and flatter his way out of /any/ situation. He also had a very explosive temper especially when his comic books were messed with. Something Scott hadn't known in the beginning of their friendship.

The two had met in school and had become mortal enemies -Stiles' words- because Scott McCall had had a fascination witht cutting 'nice' pictures from books to use for his scrapbook and well, needless to say, Stiles' batman comic book had had very 'nice' pictures in it. It had taken a whole ritual of buying the book, having Scott deliver it with a hand-written apology, before Stiles forgave.

And it had taken Stiles getting all the magazines his mom had used and giving them to Scott so he would have something to cut -and stay away from his books- to make them friends and now, they were attached at the hip.

"He likes 'splatter' more than the family ones that have a nice storyline to them. But- but that has nothing to do with my beliefs." John had nearly 'fallen into her trap' when he saw that fond smile on her face. Anyone who asks about Stiles gets a whole documentary because he happened to be a very proud father and Melissa had /used/ that. Cunning.

"Did you watch a movie last night?" She asked again, unswayed by the fact that John was staring at her like she was the traitor of the 7th century.

"Oh yeah... It was called 'Evil Ed'. A 1995 classic and. . . This still has nothing to do with my beliefs. /This/ has." He had almost gotten /sucked/ in again but pulled back enough to turn and pull another body of a teenage girl from the cold chamber right beside the already opened one.

"There's nothing wrong with the body. I mean, no scratch marks, no gunshot wounds, nothing." Melissa observed as she stepped close to the body to check it, frowning as she looked back at him. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Come on, you don't get it?"

"I'm pretty sure I won't be asking I did." She muttered calmly.

"It wasn't a heart attack either. This girl was just /walking/ home from school when she just. . . died." He finished with flailing arms to empasize his point. . . Which she still didn't know what it was.

"Seriously."

"Do I look like I'm joking? Because I'm not. Her vitals were all stable, as far as we can tell there was /nothing/ wrong with this girl." The nurse said empatically then pulled the cold chamber above this one. "And this girl." He pulled another one open. "This one too. This too. Oh and the last one on this row but I don't want to walk that far." And in all, there were seven open cold chambers in the morgue with 7 beautiful young girls lying in them and she tried to block the feeling of dread that seeped through her at the sight.

"/All/ of them showed no signs?"

"Absolutely none of them. And get this; they're all girls who are eighteen years. Barely legal. This demon or supernatural creature must just /really/ have a preferrence." Apparently, he was still on that.

"So. . . Your theory is that a demon possessed her, then killed her?"

"No. But you know there are people that say that when a vessel is not strong enough to host a demon, it can be fatal." For some reason, Melissa seemed to be having a hard time believing that.

"Assuming you're right, where could this girl have /met/ this demon?" She asked with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Mellissa, I deal with sarcasm on a /hourly/ basis with Stiles so I can point it out in a group of words even when it's hidden behind a smile like yours." The nurse muttered as though he was offended although in reality, that was far from it.

"I don't know, John. . . It sounds so . . ."

"Unscientific?"

"Well, yes." She replied with a nod.

"Of the two of us, /I'm/ the nurse and I'm the one saying this." 

"Yes but my work demands facts and things like demons aren't verifyable." She refuted.

"Right."

"Hey come on, don't be like that. It's not that I don't believe you." Melissa tried to redeem herself.

"But you don't."

"I want to! I do. I just-"

"Find the other options more easy to accept because then you won't have to be terrified." The man cut in with a deflated sigh.

"Well there's that. And the fact that mentioning these theories to anyone would make us sound crazy and all we'll achieve is being locked up and the keys thrown away."

It helped his mood that she had used the plural verse and he looked up at her with a small smile. "And the hospital and sheriff's station would lose their most committed staff."

"You betcha. We can't let that happen." She grinned fully now.

"No. Losers can't survive without us." They both shared a laugh before he asked again; "So which one did you come for?"

"Domestic violence."

"Oh yes. Poor woman. Lungs gave out after so many hours of struggling. If you find the hus-"

"Oh I /am/ going to find him. And then I'm going to make him regret it. And /then/ I'll submit my name for promotion." Melissa finished with a playful wiggle of her brows.

"With his case? Bold." He chuckled.

"And all the other cases I've worked on for the past four years. The Sheriff's retiring very soon." She explained.

"Oh good! I mean, for you. Not him. Retirement sucks." The nurse muttered as he turned around to start closing the cold chambers.

"Talking as if you've been retired before is tantamount to lying and /that/ might get you in handcuffs."

"/You/ are going to cuff me? Now that's exciting." He muttered with a chuckle, earning himself a cuff at the back of his head. "Ouch." Then just because, he added; "Anyway, well my dad was a cop.

"He was? My, my, John you just keep popping up surprises, don't you?" Melissa muttered from behind him, shaking her head. At this point, she could honestly say that she wasn't surprised at anything John says about his past. 

"Hey it's a sore spot for me. I wanted to be a cop, you know? I'd probably be a deputy sheriff too by now. Maybe even competing with you for that sheriff's spot." There was a teasing glint in his eyes and all over his face when he turned around to face her.

"Well, you know what they say. You gotta get in the sheets to get the position." Melissa teased back.

"Ew!" He exclaimed.

"I can /not/ believe you fell for that." The woman teased between peals of laughter. "Oh and John, you're spending too much time with the teenage patients. You're starting to sound like them."

"Haha. Funny." He muttered although he caught himself smiling at her antics all the same.

"McCall!" Apparently their laughter had carried out to the other deputies in the hall as one of them walked in in that moment.

"Yes?" She schooled her features instantly and with precision.

"Sheriff says to speed up the process." 

"I'm done here just give me a minute." She nodded, watching as the man left the room and turned to John again. "Duty calls."

"What have you been doing for the past thirty minutes if not working?" The nurse rolled his eyes, shutting the last chamber closed.

"Officially, I was collecting a body for the final papers and then sending it back to the family for burial. Unofficially, I was having creepy conversation with my friend." She explained with a wink as they bagged the body she came for.

"You should probably not tell them about the second part."

"Ooh a secret." She muttered gleefully on her way to the door to get help.

"Please try not to look like your son sometimes. It's a violation to my senses." The nurse teased from behind her.

"Silly." Was all she said. In the minutes that followed, two other deputies came in to help her with the movement of the body through the back door of the hospital in order to avoid disruptions. When they were done and the other two had driven off, she went back in to find John, pulling him aside. "Hey. Unofficially, I believe what you said about the girls. No, not about the demons and possession because I'll be honest that will take a while but I agree that something's not right and I'll try to see if I can help in anyway to stop it from happening again." She reassured him.

"If I'm right. . ."

"Then how do we stop an invisible demon?" She reasoned.

"Yeah. And the fact that the population of 18 year old girls in Beacon Hills is more than a few hundreds." He added.

"We'll figure something out. When I'm working on my own time." She replied, patting his upper arm and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'll hold you to that." He called after her, waving back when she waved over her shoulder at him.


	4. Isaac Lahey.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with Isaac.

Chapter 4.

Nurse John Stilinski stood in the doorway of one of the wards in the Beacon Hills Hospital's Intensice Care Unit (ICU), looking through the glass at Melissa. He was realizing -even more than he already knew- that Melissa McCall is one remarkable woman. Admittedly, their hunt to find a supernatural link to the murders that kept popping up in the town had been futile but in spite of that, the woman had been promoted to the Sheriff's position two years ago when the old sheriff had retired. And yet, there she was, sitting by the bed of a comatose teen like she has been doing for the past month.

Isaac Lahey was a sixteen year old boy who had apparently, lived in the town for a very long time -since birth-. He wasn't going to presumptuously say he knew everyone in Beacon Hills but he could confidently say that every once in a while, people made a trip to the hospital and he has at least met everyone in town once -that was at least what he thought before he met the boy- Which led him to ask, where the hell has the boy been hiding?

And perhaps he felt guilty for thinking that everyone needed to visit the hospital every once in a while because when Isaac finally made his hospital visit, he made it on a stretcher, bloodied and broken in more ways than one with a large part of his facial skin ripped and yes, very unconscious. The teen had suffered a traumatic brain injury as well as a broken neck, pelvis, and ribs from a hit and run accident. 

Perhaps that was why Melissa had been interested in the teen in the beginning. She had needed him to wake up to help identify the car that had hit him and put him in that state but after a while, she just realized that her son Scott was the same age as the boy even though this one was taller and seemed timid even in his sleep. For a young boy, the look on his face matched that of a man. As if he had several worries and maybe he did, because for the five weeks Isaac had been in a coma, no family member -parent, guardian, siblings, no one- has come to the hospital to visit.

He apparently lived with his father who was not in town at the moment and the boy had no records to show or tell them how to reach the man. In her head however, the man was a suspect even though she wondered what kind of father would run their own child through and leave him for dead.

The doctor had said something about the boy having suffered severe brain stem injury, and his left side was paralyzed. He would also -if he woke up- have to deal with double vision, complete loss of eye-hand coordination, balance problems so poor that the world would be to him as if he was on a rocking boat, and a total lack of focus in terms of construction of points because his memory would be short term in nature.

If he did recover, it would take a long time of therapy and rehab and there was still the chance that he may never recover from the paralysis.

First, the doctors had made sure that the patient -Isaac- wasn't in immediate danger of dying. They had placed a tube in his windpipe through the mouth, and hooked him up to a breathing machine then taken care of as much of the other serious and life-threatening injuries to the rest of the body that they could, in the order of decreasing severity.

They also relieved the excess pressure in the brain which they presumed to have caused the coma, by hyperventilation which increases the rate of breathing to constrict blood vessels in the brain and can also relieve pressure. The procedure was basically them surgically placing a tube inside the skull and draining the fluid. 

The doctor had also given the boy medication to prevent seizures and for his acute ischemic strokes, he had undergone procedures and received special clot-busting medication in an effort to restore blood flow to the brain.

Electroencephalography (EEG) was used to detect any abnormalities in the brain's electrical activity. This can also show brain tumors, infections, and other conditions that might have caused the coma and as presumed, the coma was shown to have been caused by excess pressure in the brain that happened a few seconds after the collision. 

Once the boy was stable, the doctors now shifted their concentration on keeping him as healthy as possible. Coma patients are susceptible to pneumonia and other infections and after the fourth week, they had started his physical therapy to prevent long-term muscle damage.

John Stilinski was in charge of moving him periodically to prevent bedsores -- painful skin wounds caused by lying in one position for too long and another female nurse was in charge of the therapy although Melissa was the one who stayed in the room with the patient at all times. She had given the hospital the excuse of eye witness report sometimes being accurate instantly and how essential it was for her to be there but John knew better. She was worried. After knowing the woman for eight years, he was pretty sure he could notice her moods even when she tried to disguise them. 

All her working hours were spent in the ward with Isaac and she had files brought to her every two hours that needed her attention. No she wasn't neglecting her duties as the sheriff because according to her; "I don't need to be in the sheriff's station to be a sheriff. I can work from anywhere." and boy did she work.

Scott and Stiles have suddenly found better things to do too aside eavesdropping on every conversation had within a 10 mile radius. Okay that was just Stiles because Scott was too sweet to be rebellious. They spent their evenings in the ward with Isaac and more than once, over the last month, the four of them had had dinner right there beside Isaac's bed.

They only left to sleep and resumed the next morning. 

Because patients who are in a coma can't eat or drink on their own, they receive nutrients and liquids through a vein or feeding tube so that they don't starve or dehydrate. Isaac also received electrolytes -- salt and other substances that help regulate body processes. 

A few days ago, -a few days after the doctor's deadline for Isaac waking up, based on his score on the Glasgow Coma scale- he had received a special tube that goes directly into his windpipe through the front of the throat. 

The tracheotomy tube can be left in place for extended periods of time because it requires less maintenance and does not injure the soft tissues of the oral cavity and upper throat. 

Melissa sighed to herself, shutting the file she had been working on as she lifted her gaze up to the unconscious boy in the bed. He was supposed to be awake by now. The doctor had said that based on the tests they had conducted in the first 24 hours of his arrival at the hospital, Isaac Lahey was supposed to be awake. Four weeks was a very long time to be in a coma even though the doctors treated it as though it was such a usual thing. They didn't seem as disturbed as she was about this child and maybe that was because they didn't have teenage children at home. Or because they have seen worse.

This case was becoming a very emotional one and she has been adviced on several occasions to step back from it but alas! one of the many perks of being the sheriff. You get to make the final decisions on who gets to handle what case and she chose Isaac's case. She really didn't want to imagine what she would do if it was Scott lying there in that bed, broken both internally and externally. Several of the boy's ribs had been broken and a few of his organs had been punctured as a result of that. The doctors had assured her that it wasn't serious damage that had happened to the organs and she was grateful for that because if the organs had failed, then Isaac was really doomed.

She run her fingers through her now tame yet still curly hair, eyes fixed on the boy's face as she appealed mentally to him and to whomever was listening to help him wake up. She didn't really care much about the culprit anymore. They were going to find the bastard one way or another. All she really needed, was for the teen to wake up.

She talked to him sometimes. Maybe out of boredom or because she wanted to pull him back but she did. She didn't know for sure if he heard her however but she was hoping at least that her presense there was enough to comfort the boy even in that state of unconsciousness. "Don't you wanna wake up?" She whispered softly, pulling her chair closer to the bed as he took the boy's hand in hers. "Is that it? Because you find more peace in that state?" There was still no response. Not that she had expected any. "I mean, I want you to wake up. Does that make me a selfish person? Why don't you wake up and tell me that?" She waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

And there was still nothing. "You know, Scott wanted me to adopt you since we don't know where your family is. I mean, I'm not married and it's just Scott and me but we're good people. Most of the time." She chuckled lightly. She couldn't feel her hand anymore because of the position it was in. An hour of being set at the edge of the bed cut off blood flow to her fingers so she could only move them but it felt like someone took their time to weave a very strong spider web around it.

"We'll take care of you. I promise. Even Stiles, whom by now you may have realized is quite terrible." She chuckled fondly. "But he's kind too. Loveable. A little sensitive and... hyperactive but... what am I saying?" She mumbled to herself, sighing once more in defeat but then she could have sworn she felt her hand move. The one holding Isaac's. She jumped up from her seat, eyes going wide as she watched the boy's eyes flutter slowly, a surreal feeling settling in her belly.

"He's cute." Isaac whispered, the corners of his lips twitching lightly but it seemed after realizing it was too much effort to smile, especially at Melissa's gobsmacked expression, his facial muscles relaxed once more.

"Who, Stiles?" Melissa asked, not even conscious of what she was saying.

"Yeah."

"You... You like- you're wait. Are you gay?" She whispered, blinking as though incessantly doing it would clear the shock of the moment away.

"Still wanna adopt me?" Isaac muttered then his breathing became shallow again, jabbing Melissa out of her shock as she started calling the nearest nurse. "He woke up! He woke up but something's wrong. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH HIM!!??"

It was a bustle of activity after that and somewhere along the way, her hand had been dropped away from the teen's and she only stood there, craddling the stiff hand as she watched on with an expression akin to horror.

"What- why... What's wrong? Is he going to be fine? Why did he just-"

"It's a typical response for comatose patients who are waking up. They rarely ever just wake up and stay awake forever but sometimes -/most/ times- they may be awake and alert for only a few minutes the first day, but gradually stay awake for longer and longer periods." The female nurse who had come in to examine the boy replied calmly, turning to face the panicking Sheriff.

"So you're saying-?"

"That he'll be fine. It may take from between the next 18 to 24 hours for him to wake up again but he will. Hopefully."

"What does that mean?" Melissa questioned, rubbing her palms together as a way of stopping herself from biting her nails.

"That means that comatose patients are also very easily affected by pneumonia so it is the hope that he doesn't get any infections. He'll be fine. All his vitals seem stable."

"But the tubes-"

"will remain there for a while longer. Maybe 48 hours later when we're certain he's very capable of supporting himself."

"Okay." She mumbled more to herself than to the nurse, turning around to sit at the edge of the bed. "Two days. Yeah we can do two more days, right?" She asked, this time, to the unconscious boy, reaching once more for his hand. "And yes, I still want to adopt you."

Somehow, sometime, she had fallen asleep, only waking up when the boys had barged into the room, Stiles taking the lead and Scott -as expected- entering several minutes later. "We heard." The hyperactive boy said, explanation and apology wrapped into one. 

"Did he really wake up?" Scott questioned when he finally appeared, taking a hit from his inhaler to stay sane.

"Son, I told you to pace yourself sometimes." And with that, she turned accusing eyes on Stiles who just shrugged, earning him a knock on the back of his head by his father, who had finished his shift for the day.

"Thank God it's friday right?" The nurse asked.

"Why?"

"Because we can spend the weekend here and this time, we won't miss when he wakes up." The man replied gleefully. He had been scrubbing for a surgery when he had heard about Isaac's recovery and has never wanted a surgery to end quickly this bad. Melissa was really rubbing off on him. Not that he was complaining. No. Far from it. It was great to have something else to focus his energy on aside his dead wife.

Melissa brightened up positively. "We still need food."

"We can order take out for the entire weekend! I mean, I want to be here when he wakes up so I can tell him how completely badass that scar on his face is." Stiles exclaimed, stepping into the hallway to grab some chairs for he and Scott.

"Stiles, he hears us when we speak." Melissa chipped in indulgently.

"I still don't believe that comatose patients can hear stuff." The boy defended.

"Well, he told me to tell you he thought you were cute." Melissa recounted the message with a firm nod.

"Naah. That's just you saying." He mumbled even though a treacherous blush crept up his neck.

"Stiles, I've never called you cute. Ok maybe I did but that was at least 5 years ago."

"You're being serious?" Scott asked before Stiles can start arguing out his cuteness with his mom, his gaze moving from his mother to the unconscious blonde on the bed.

"That was pretty much all he said to me." The woman affirmed.

"That is so not fair!" Scott exclaimed then all but jumped onto the bed. "I'm going to be your brother. I deserve to be called cute." 

"Can't force it, man. You either have it or you don't." Stiles teased from behind Scott.

John moved to the woman, leaning in to whisper; "You think our kids are gay?"

"No.. No I don't think they are." Melissa replied with a chuckle, giving the fussing pair another look before shaking her head. "No I just think they were created in a different way than the rest of the normal children."

"Way to call our kids abnormal." The nurse whispered with apparent humor.

"I'm not even joking. I mean look at them."

And he did. Oh yes he did. And he saw and he was pretty sure that Melissa was right. There was something fundamentally wrong -yet at the same time, right- about those two boys.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids find themselves at the wrong place...

"Dude, are you okay?" Isaac asked Scott as they entered the department store. It was a saturday afternoon and Stiles has finally decided that he has had enough of Scott's "no watching Star Wars" spell and he was taking matters into his own hands which practically meant everybody -namely him- was expected to be in support of this plan as well. Admittedly, he got, to some extent, Stiles' frustration because he's been with them for just two years and he has already watched the movies so he really didn't understand how Scott still managed to skip it everytime.

"I will be, once I'm sure I'm not being forced here against my will." Scott replied although his humor was apparent. He has pretty much given up on the idea of escaping this day.

"If that's the feeling you're waiting for, you'll be waiting a long while." Stiles replied, giving his best friend a pat on the shoulder in spite of the devious look he wore. "Because it is just plain outrageous-"

"Totally outrageous." Isaac supported, chuckling at the lecture he knew might follow.

"that you're eighteen and you /still/ haven't watched Star Wars. I refuse to take any of your excuses anymore. I am going to ductape you to a chair and surgically put it inside your brain if that's what it'll take." Stiles enforced as he headed to the section of the store where the movies were.

"Scott, seriously though are you okay?" Isaac asked from behind the boy who seemed to be taking slower steps.

"I dunno. I think so." He replied, brows furrowed as though he was doing self examination.

"No you're not." Stiles turned to face his friend, a displeasing look on his face.

"Yes I am. What makes you think I'm not okay?" Scott questioned although he was starting to think they were right in that based on how breathless he felt after asking that.

"Because your whole face looks burnt and not in a good way." Isaac supplied.

"I don't have char... on my face." Scott argued. "Pretty sure... I woulda smelt it if my... If my skin caught fire."

"I didn't say that. I mean like-"

"Like how the ghost rider looked right before he burst into flames. All red and shit." Stiles exclaimed.

"You're-- oh god.." He had wanted to tell Stiles he was crazy but he couldn't.

"It's the asthma isn't it? Son of a-" Isaac asked and not waiting for the reply, he turned around on his heel and walked briskly out of the store to get the inhaler. Scott didn't talk much when his attacks came, which was pretty normal and expected considering he's focusing all his efforts on not dying and shit.

"Hurry up!" Stiles yelled after Isaac although from what he could see the boy was almost already out of the store. It has been such a long time since Scott has had an asthma attack that they may -all of them- have gotten complacent about it. The inhaler was now brought along for courtesy sake and then was discarded somewhere, in this case, on the dashboard of the jeep. 

Scott slumped to the floor, gripping his chest and Stiles, torn between looking expectantly at the doorway for Isaac's return, gave in and slumped to the floor with him, mumbling words he hoped were encouraging. For the life of him, he forgot just how scary these episodes were and that's when he heard the unmistakeable clocking of a gun, followed closely by: "Give me the money and you live."

Seriously. Who the fuck goes robbing in broad daylught?! How dumb could the person be but that was not his concern. "Scott. Buddy, stay with me." He whispered, almost sobbing.

"What is-?" Isaac stopped short in the doorway at the scene before him, frozen in place as his eyes darted from the masked man holding the gun at the salesgirl and to where Stiles lay with his ear pressed against Scott's chest although the boy was obviously breathing. Too hard, one might say. 

"SHIT! Just give me the damn money before someone else gets hurt." The man bellowed, this time, calling the attention of the other people in the store.

"Scotty. Scotty please stay- where the hell is Isaac?!" Stiles screamed, bordering on hysterical.

"Will you shut the fuck up?" The masked man turned to the pair on the floor.

"I just-" He tried to explain.

"Nobody move! Nobody fucking move!" The robber cut in fiercely.

"But my friend... He needs his inhaler. It's outside in the jeep and I just-" He was on his knees, begging for mercy and something about that must have ticked the man off because in the next instance, his arm shot out and he shot two straight bullets into Scott's chest, the blood from the wound splattering onto Stiles' face and shirt, freezing him in place, his eyes wide.

"There. He won't be needing that now." He said with a sneer, gathering up the money the terrified salesgirl handed to him.

"What- oh my- fuck Scott?- WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?" Stiles finally managed to ask but Isaac was already on the man.

"You're fucking dead, you hear me? Fucking dead! You shot the sheriff's son? You bet your ass she's going to find you If I don't kill you first!" And he was clawing as much as he could. He may not be able to take the man down but he was definitely aiming to take off the mask. And he tried. Really. After a few minutes, however, the but of the gun came down on the side of his head and he went crumbling to the floor.

"Scott... Isaac..." Stiles' eyes darted between his two friends, noting the blood trail that run down Scott's face from his mouth and then placed his palms on the chest wound. The other boy wasn't breathing and his whole body was trembling with fear. "Scott please.. Somebody call 911!"

Somehow, someone did manage to call 911 and in a few minutes, they were there along with an ambulance and Scott... Scott was still not breathing. Stiles fazed out even as he heard that Isaac was fine and that he only suffered a concussion and then everything just shut down around him.

*****

"Mr. Stilinski. I hear I'm supposed to be questioning you about a shooting?" Melissa asked John as she entered the hospital. She wasn't happy about shooting accidents and even after years of practicing, they still unsettled her.

"I believe you mean the /other/ Mr. Stilinski." John replied, cocking his head towards where his son sat on the bench, staring at his bloodied hands and yet not really looking. Something about Melissa's demeanor rubbed him as wrong, however, and he turned back to her. "You don't..." And then it made perfect sense. "Oh my God, Melissa."

It took a while to make sense to her. "What what what? Is there something you're not-? Oh no. No no NO!! SCOTT!!!" And she let out a loud gut-wrenching scream when it finally did, charging away from the nurse as she started her hysterical search for her son.

John chased after her, casting apologetic looks towards people till he finally caught up with her. She may be the sheriff but her petite frame allowed him to easily grab her around the arm and pull her around to face him. "Shh calm down."

"/Calm down/?!" She asked incredulously.

"Melissa, he's in surgery and the doctor said none of the bullets hit-" The nurse started to explain only for the woman to cut in.

"None?! There was more than one?!"

"Melissa- yes, there was more than one but the good news is, no organs were even bruised so the surgery is just to removed the bullets and well he lost a lot of blood so-"

"I'll give. I'll give as much blood as you need." She offered, wiping the tears off her face with a conviction she didn't feel.

"Isaac already did."

"Isaac?" She whispered.

"Well, we were calling you and it wasn't going through and Isaac offered so we took it. He is blood type 0 Rh(-) so it came in handy." The man provided.

"Oh my God." And now she felt terrible. It didn't take long to find out Isaac was an abused boy. The way he recoiled in certain situations and how long it took for him to not break down after hugging him was really all he needed. She had caught the culprit of his accident a few months after and till date, his abusive father has still not showed up. Secretly, she wished him a lot of pain and now, she feared what trauma the boy must have gone through today, witnessing what he had.

"Look. Look at me. Calm down. Scott's going to be fine and so will Isaac." He reassured her, squeezing her shoulder gently and as more of an afterthought, he pulled her into his embrace, smiling softly when she seemed to calm down after a few minutes.

She pulled back, ready to trust in his word and snuck a peek around the man to look at Stiles who did not look good. "Can't say the same for him."

"I know. I'm really bad at taking care of him. I think he's in shock 'cause I was talking to him but he just kept staring at his hands, won't let me touch him and ambulance said he had a panic attack on the way over." John Stilinski turned around till his gaze was now fully on his son. He was always bad at consoling Stiles and he never learnt mostly because things seldom got to the boy. He breezed situations over with a sarcastic remark.

"Doesn't sound good." Melissa muttered from beside him.

"I know. He's not had them since... Well since-"

"his mother died?" She supplied, understanding instantly.

"Yes."

"I'll take care of him. You take care of my sons."

"Always." He managed with a smile, giving her shoulder a gentle pat before heading in the direction of the emergency room where the surgery was taking place.

"Hey John..." Melissa called after him.

The man turned around with a smile, eyes darting briefly to look at his son. "Thank you."

"That was my line." She muttered, chuckling as she turned and walked down the hallway to Stiles. "Mr. Stilinski?"

"That'll be my da- Melissa." Stiles' eyes went wide, confused by the smile he saw on the woman's face "I don't... Scott. He was just... He couldn't breathe and this guy just like... Shot him and Isaac was.. The inhaler... And he stopped breathing --"

She crouched down in front of him, whispering; "Shh hey. Scott's gonna be okay." 

"How can you be so sure? It's my fault. It's all my fault. If I hadn't wanted him to watch Star Wars then-"

"Hey... No one's to blame for what happened except the guy who did it. You should be able to go to a department store with your best friend and not be shot at. I'm going to get him... In the meantime, Scott's going to be fine and I'm sure because well, I'm his mom and it's our superpower. I'm pretty sure we know when things will be fine. Come on, let's get your hands washed okay?" She whispered, trying to be comforting as she stood and held out a hand for him to take.

Stiles looked down at his blood-stained palms before muttering; "But Isaac-"

"Will also be fine. You gotta be cleaned up when Scott gets out of surgery so you'll be the first to see him." She tried another angle when it seemed Stiles was bent on feeling sorry.

"Really?" His face lighened up and he moved to his feet, eyes staring expectantly at Melissa when he grabbed her hand firmly.

She reached out to ruffle his hair, giving him a small smile and praying that she was really right and everything would be alright because she did not want to imagine what would happen to her, and what Raphael might say. "Of course. You're /the/ best friend."

"I am." He affirmed with a nod as he followed her to the washrooms to get the blood off his hands.

"Of course you are."

*****

Sometime after Scott's surgery, Isaac had woken up and requested his bed be moved into Scott's room since his request to be discharged instantly was refused. The hospital complied.

John Stilinski stood outside the door of the room, looking through the glass at the occupants. They had shifted the beds closer so Isaac and Stiles was practically sharing his bed while Scott slept on peacefully and Melissa was sitting by Scott's bed, gripping the boy's hand in hers and not really doing much. The scene was an all too familiar one as he remembered a similar one two years ago when Isaac had come into their lives. Their, because when he looked at the people in the room, he only thought 'my family' and not The McCalls and the Stilinski kid. Somehow, the families have blended together so much it was almost hard to tell them apart. He stepped in slowly but the creaking of the door drew her attention to him anyway. "Hey..." He whispered, not wanting to wake the boys up.

"Thank you." Melissa said when she stood and walked towards the man, not wanting to disturb the kids.

"I didn't do anything. I wasn't even in the surgery." John muttered.

"You calmed me down. Without you, I'll be the third McCall hospitalized today." She replied with a gentle smile, albeit a tired one.

"Thank you for what you did with Stiles." He replied.

"I didn't do much."

"Before, he didn't even let me touch him." And as much as he tried not to think about it, he kept wondering why and thinking that maybe he should have let Stiles see a psychologist after Claudia died.

"Teenagers like the feminine touch. We can consider that theory tested." She replied with a jovial touch.

"Not just teenagers." He replied.

"Oh?" Melissa asked with a quirk of her brow then her eyes darted down when John grabbed hold of hers for a gentle squeeze. "Oh."

"Yeah.. When we get out of this hospital sometime next year, you wanna grab a bite together?" He asked.

"Yeah sure. I know this great family place just outside-"

"Without the kids. Not that I wouldn't want to but this time, let's make it just me and you." Was it weird that he was asking her out on a day when both their kids have been through so much stress? Yes. But then again, it was the Stilinskis and the McCalls. It doesn't get weirder than that.

"Sounds like a plan." Melissa mumbled with a chuckle.

"Yeah... yeah it does." Because now he was realizing what he just did and he was feeling nervous.

"You can resume work. I'll keep watch." Melissa offered and the nurse nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead before slipping out of the room.

She kept standing at the door, hand on the knob for god knows how long before letting out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. When she turned around, she nearly scremed when she saw Stiles sitting up in bed. "Do you like him?" The boy asked calmly, seeming to adapt the whispering tone too.

"What?"

"My dad. Do you like him?" He repeated calmly.

"Of course!" She says breezily as she moved to resume her seat, hoping that was it but really, she should have known better.

"That's not the response I was looking for." The boy chipped in.

"You don't want me to like him?" And maybe she panicked a little at that. The last thing she wanted was for Stiles to think she was stealing Claudia's spot because he wasn't. And right. He was thinking too far. It's not like he and John were going to get married or anything. Right?

"No, I do. It's just the way you said that. You're not supposed to be cheerful when you answer that. You're supposed to be nervous and hesitant." Stiles explained, adjusting himself in the bed.

"Stiles-"

"So let's try this again. Do you like my dad?" He asked, unrelenting.

"He's a great man." She admitted.

"Now that's more like it." He replied with a grin then his look turned serious. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Now go to sleep." Melissa managed, waiting till Stiles slumped down on the bed to pull up the sheets over the three boys.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll post this with days interval but it'll mostly depend on the muse (and the fact that I have school soon and 3 other fics to finish) but please tell me what you think.


End file.
